How to Pass the Time
by augustepiphany
Summary: Somehow even thinking about Hermione felt like a betrayal, but it was natural really. They’d been best friends for years. Except it was different, wasn't it? Completed.


Twirling his wand between his fingers, Ron stared out the window at the winter sky. It was grey and miserable, casting a shadow on the school that beat at the students' motivation and sent them scurrying to fireplaces. He'd gone to look for people to attack with snowballs but everyone was working or busy with indoor activities that kept them by the aforementioned fireplaces. Even Harry was nowhere to be found, though that wasn't unusual with him. Every so often he'd just wander off and Ron would find some other way to amuse himself; it never really bothered him, there were plenty of other people to hang out with.

Unfortunately, today seemed to be good for the ultimate disappearing act. None of the boys were anywhere to be found, though Ron had to admit he hadn't tried all that hard.

He supposed it was something to do with Lavender; looking over at her briefly showed him that she was still slouched on the couch, _Witch Weekly _in hands. He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to feign interest or not, but as far as he could tell from the cover there was nothing in there with any substance. Something about changing the colour of your cauldron fire ... honestly, who would want a pink fire? There was something innately disturbing about that idea.

At least she was occupied, which meant she wasn't trying to kiss him. It was odd how he had taken such a dislike to the activity; he was thinking of it as a learning experience now than something fun, and that reminded of Hermione, which in return made him angry and more likely to kiss Lavender.

It was a vicious cycle.

Ron sighed. He began tapping his wand against his leg to the beat of the Weird Sisters' latest single. His gaze returned to the window, thoughts to an old memory of following McGonagall into the hospital wing, Harry beside him, Hermione lying frozen in a bed ... she was probably studying at the moment, taking no heed of the upcoming holidays. Maybe she'd organised to go skiing with her parents; she had missed it last time, after all. Not that she seemed very interested in it; which was fine with Ron, the whole idea still seemed completely ridiculous – not to mention dangerous. He was perfectly alright with Hermione not strapping her feet to planks of wood and then sliding down a mountain on them. A mountain with rocks and trees and probably bears that were more than capable of eating a small, seventeen-year-old girl.

'What are you thinking about?' said a voice suddenly; Ron jumped and snapped his head around to look at Lavender. His face felt very warm under her curious stare, the heat spreading up to his ears and down his neck.

'Nothing important,' he said quietly, though he couldn't quite meet her eyes.

Somehow even thinking about Hermione felt like a betrayal, but it was natural really. They'd been best friends for years, just like him and Harry. Well, not just like him and Harry, that was probably a strange comparison, and not one he imagined either Harry or Hermione would like him making.

The thought made his lips twitch, but one look at Lavender's face told him she was seconds away from a jealous, paranoid fit about other girls and keeping things from her.

Not wanting to initiate another fight – he had enough of those with Hermi – _dammit – _he slid across the couch to her, dropping his wand on the seat next to him. He raised a hand, brushing the blonde hair out of her eyes, and cupped her cheek. He'd learnt quite a bit in the last few weeks, and he was getting a lot of practise – he'd never known a girl to be so _whiny._

Still, he looked directly into her clear green eyes and spoke as tenderly as possible (so probably sounding much like a Hippogriff in a trophy room).

'You have beautiful eyes. They're so ... rich in colour.'

Ron felt like he was describing a flower in the most cliché way possible, but Lavender smiled shyly; he felt a slight dip in his abdomen as her eyelashes brushed against his hand when she glanced down. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, the hair he'd brushed away gently tickling his cheek.

A scoffing sound behind him sounded like a gunshot, and once more he jumped and looked around quickly; Hermione was stalking across the common room toward the girls' staircase, back too straight and shoulders too stiff. Ron felt like the world had been suddenly pulled out from under him, a gaping hole about to swallow him but he dangled above it, not willing to fall but terrified he would.

Then she was gone without a backward glance, bushy hair and straining book bag disappearing last around the corner.

For a second he sat stunned as the sudden onslaught of emotion drained away, then refocussed his attention back on Lavender. She was watching him with a calm expression, but her eyes were bright. Ron knew how to fix this, though; he leaned forward and met her lips with his, kissing her lightly a few times before she surrendered and parted her lips for him.

It wasn't exciting anymore, but he still went along with it. He listened to his body, not his head or heart; it was less confusing and probably more satisfying.

Besides, maybe if he concentrated he could imagine he was running his hand through thick, curly hair.

_.fin._


End file.
